Andy

“Have you ever visited the home of an elderly widow and seen her collection of miniature spoons? Or thimbles? Maybe they’re refrigerator magnets, or salt and pepper shakers. It’s always something. They’re all part of a set. There’s a display case involved, with a special slot for each one. It was ambitious of her to buy the case before it was filled. It sits there in her home, a layer of dust atop it where she can no longer reach. A shrine to youthful optimism.

Inevitably, as life steamrolls on, she’s become more concerned with what is missing from her collection rather than what she already has. That ashtray from Niagara Falls was a hard-won souvenir, sitting proudly next to the one from Branson. But the moment it was obtained, it lost its value. And now all she thinks about is that empty space, right there. Right next to Graceland. It eats at her.

It is a totem to everything she did not accomplish. Her failures. She stares at it, sometimes. That space. That damn, empty space. All she wants is to fill it.”
― Matt Dinniman, The Gate of the Feral Gods